Free Intermission by Erika Almond

Chapter One
     
    I walked back up the hill from town toward my cottage, my
cowgirl boots dragging dreamily along the summer-baked road. Three hours
earlier I’d been stomping down this same path fit to spit over my cheating
boyfriend. Now I was returning home with a smile on my face, the good kind of
ache between my legs and a head full of memories of Miles Masterson.
    Miles, who was tall, blond and built very much like a god
whose hobby was tossing bolts of lightning. Miles, who had cuddled me close
with gym-chiseled arms in the balcony at the Hawthorne Cinema Palace, where I’d
sought relief from the hot day and my hotter temper. Miles, who turned out to
be the star of the movie I went to see, who was here in Mayfield County
visiting his folks before the big premiere of his movie in New York City next
week. The premiere he’d invited me to as his date.
    That had come as a surprise. True, we’d had a good time
together during his bad slasher movie. A very good time. I stopped in the road
for a moment, reliving the feel of our first kiss, the mild rasp of his gold
razor stubble against my face, a contrast to the softness of his lips. His
tongue asking mine to come play. Then the pull of the buttons on the front of
my green sundress being undone and his warm palm on my bare breast. His fingers
caressing down my body and under my panties and between my legs to stroke my
pearl. The memories made a moan escape me.
    I caught myself, looked around to see that no one had heard
and grinned as I resumed walking home. I’d liked the way Miles handled me, with
the perfect balance of sweetness and the kind of passion that would’ve earned
our time in the balcony an X rating. Too bad he was just passing through
Hawthorne on his way to a big movie career in Hollywood. Not that I was looking
for anything long-term, but I might’ve liked to have seen him once or twice
again. I took his request for me to accompany him to his movie premiere
downstate as sweet talk, even though he’d asked me three times if I would.
    My smile and the delicious memories faded when I got to my
cottage. There on my doorstep sat a small, snuffling mutt and a big, handsome
cheater. “Riley Wanamaker,” I scowled, “I thought I told you to get gone.”
    A high whimper came from Riley’s dog, Roscoe. A mix of pug
and who knew what else, Roscoe’s brow was perpetually furrowed with worry,
likely about his owner. All Riley ever did was get laid and get in trouble, in
that order and so frequently it was a standing joke around Mayfield County. But
now Riley looked unusually upset. “Please, Josie, you’ve got to hear me out.”
    “I heard the part where you said you fucked the real estate
lady who was supposed to be finding us a place to move into together,” I
reminded him. “I think I’ve heard enough.”
    “You didn’t let me explain,” Riley pleaded. “You went
storming out of here so fast, you didn’t let me tell you my reasons.”
    “ Reasons? For cheating on me?” I was about to give
Riley a sample of hell before I saw his eyes flicker behind me and he nodded
and said, “Afternoon, Mrs. Beadle.”
    I turned around and saw my neighbor hanging up her sparkling
white sheets on the clothesline while attempting to hear me air my dirty
laundry. “Afternoon, Riley, Josie,” she called. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
    My neighbor was known for generously sharing her sugar-topped
Juneberry pies as well as everyone else’s comings and goings. “Weather’s a tad
hot for my liking,” I commented.
    “Brutal heat,” Mrs. Beadle agreed. “But Riley was willing to
sit out there on your doorstep three hours waiting on you, even though I
invited him over to mine to cool off.”
    Doubtless she had. Riley’s appeal with the ladies had no age
limit. “Well, you enjoy the afternoon,” I said with a wave, hell-bent on
denying her the Hawthorne equivalent of an afternoon soap opera. I turned to
Riley and muttered low, “Get gone. I’m through with